


Inheritance

by Jaxrond



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Ghosts, Graphic Violence, Historical AU settings, Horror, Language, Modern AU, Murder, Romance, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2425559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaxrond/pseuds/Jaxrond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When great-great-grandfather Pixis' long-lost will is found, it is discovered that his old plantation estate has been left to his immediate descendants, the daughters of his four great granddaughters. Excited at the prospect of such an elegant and historical home, the five great-great granddaughters move in together, assuming possession of the mansion, grounds. and contents. At first, everything is like a dream. The house is beautiful and life is normal, at least, it is if you ignore the way the bushes seem to trim themselves.<br/>Everything changes when the new occupants begin to realize that the beautiful house is not as peaceful as it first appeared. Spectral figures lurk in the ballroom, shadows whisper in the night, and cold chills like winter frost strike at random. Blood appears in the halls, only to disappear again. Voices murmur in the dark, telling of a great tragedy. The women begin to question why the estate was left to them and what kind of dark event took place within the mansion. Amid frightening happenings and murderous whispers, questions are brought to mind. How did Grandfather Pixis really die? Did he ever move on? And who, exactly, remains with him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Mansion

Freya stared in disbelief at the house before her. To say it was huge would be a gross understatement. She was vaguely aware of her cousin, Isabella, standing next to her in much the same state of awe. She glanced at her just to check that this was not a dream. It was not. The old plantation mansion before her was as real as the air she breathed. She sucked in another breath, taking in the titanic pillars that rose up from the ground like trees, supporting the roof, three stories above. Two winding stair cases moved from the ground up to the main porch, which wrapped around the monstrosity of a house between the first and second floors. Two separate wings flared off the main house itself, the west wing resembling a small home in and of itself and the east taking an elegant, rounded form. Each floor had its own porch that wrapped around the entire building, running past tall windows and doors.

The mansion was white, from the roof to the base. The doors and shutters were darkly stained wood and the railing on the balconies, stairs, and porches were black wrought iron. Splashes of color lit up the manicured lawn around the house in the forms of neatly kept bushes and flowers. The house sprawled in an elegant, almost lazy manner across the backdrop of sparse trees and green grass. Freya found herself shading her eyes to look up to the mostly flat roof. Then her gaze dropped to the brick walkway on which she stood. It led up to one of the staircases, paralleled by its twin, which led to the other.

She glanced back at the road, only two hundred meters from the house. The driveway came directly from the road, through the gate in the white fence at the property line, and looped around the mansion. She and Isabella had been so awed, however, that they had left the car in the driveway, still running, and immediately gone to look.

“Holy shit,” Isabella said, the first words either of them had uttered since they had gotten out of the car.

Freya nodded, her gaze traveling over the house again.

“And we haven’t even seen the back or the grounds.”

Isabella’s eyes widened impossibly further under her dyed, multicolor hair, the prospect of there being more apparently too much for her.

“Holy _shit_.”

They looked at each other for a moment. Then, they raced back to the car. Freya slid into the driver’s seat while Isabella dove into the passenger side. They quickly made their way around the house to the back.

The first thing that Freya said was: “Is that a _fountain_?”

The driveway continued, going straight past the front doors. Next to the driveway was a large, round fountain, water jetting out of it and raining back down into the pool. It was surrounded by immaculate flowering bushes and a stone courtryard. The grounds were visible on the other side of the fountain, stretching on for at least a mile, dotted by old, empty buildings. At the end of the driveway was a small turnabout and a carriage house that had been converted into a garage. All five bays were open, three of them were full.

“The others got here before us,” Isabella muttered, “How much you wanna bet on Marie having already slid down every banister before we walk in?”

Freya’s lips quirked as she pulled into an empty bay, turning off the car.

“It’s a possibility.”

Together, they left the car, and their belongings, behind, walking toward the front door. At the moment, exploring took precedence over unpacking. Neither saw the curtains fall back into place in the library window.

* * *

 

Abigail pushed open the glass doors to the upper porch. A soft breeze ruffled her skirt as she walked out into the shade of the overhang. She sighed slightly before stepping back inside. The house smelled too musty for her tastes. After airing it out, she would sit down, she decided. Going down the wall to another window, she pushed that one open as well, her hands made to appear paler against the dark wood of the panels. With each one she opened, the curtains fluttered about her. She had found the curtains rather odd at first. She had no doubt that they were indeed the original curtains from the time of her Great Grandfather, back when the estate was still a plantation. However, they were in impeccable condition. She had shrugged it off, thinking that perhaps the historical society of the area had kept the house up. After all, modern electrical functions had been installed at some point, there were light switches and outlets in most of the rooms she had explored thus far. Her cell phone was also getting internet signal, which meant that there was a WiFi modem somewhere in the house. Very recent, very modern. She supposed it had been installed when the historical society was planning to make the house a tourist attraction, before great-great grandfather Pixis’ will had been found. As Abigail had heard it, they had been quite put out that she and her cousins were to inherit it.

With a small smile, Abigail looked around the sunlit ballroom, taking in the chandelier, furniture, and fireplace, all in perfect condition. The fireplace sat in one wall of the room, next to an alcove, which was set aside by beautifully decorated columns and furnished more for socializing than dancing. Above the fireplace hung a large portrait. Abigail knew without a doubt that the portrait was of her Grandfather, Dot Pixis. She could see a very vague family resemblance.

“Oh dear,” she murmured to the portrait, coming to stand before it, “I feel like an intruder, Grandfather. I’m terribly sorry that your will got lost and your estate went to a bunch of women who don’t even share your name. Though, I can’t really control how our family seems to produce only women. Two daughters on your part, one granddaughter, four great granddaughters, and five great-great granddaughters. Hopefully, you wouldn’t be too upset by this. After all, we’re all very intelligent girls. Even Bella, who has a bit of an attitude. Very strong willed too. Though…sometimes it gets us into trouble.”

A sound beside and behind her caused her to glance over her shoulder. She paused, looking around the empty ballroom. Had she imagined a chuckle?

She shook her head.

“Look at me, talking to thin air when Marie’s most likely making a mess of things….with Sofia trailing along behind,” she sighed at the thought of the youngest cousins, turning and striding from the ballroom.

She did not notice the cold touch that barely missed her shoulder as she passed the blank space of air from which the sound had emanated.

A few minutes of searching later, Abigail found herself in the study. The entire room seemed to be paneled in wood, from the floor to the walls. The ceiling was plaster. Books lined shelves along the walls. In the center of the room was a rug, upon which sat a sofa, two armchairs, and a small table. A dark, wood desk sat opposite the door, nearer the windows. On the wall, above the desk, hung a portrait of Grandfather Pixis, who was sitting with a woman and a young girl. Abigail assumed that the woman was his wife, who had died giving birth to their second daughter, taking the baby with her. The girl had to be her great-grandmother.

Staring around, momentarily forgetting her search, Abigail made her way to the desk, noticing a few small picture frames on it. Curiously, she rounded the corner in order to view them. The pictures were, as others of their time, black and white. The first was a photograph of three men. Grandfather PIxis sat in a chair to the left of the frame. On the right, also sitting, was a fair-haired man with prominent eyebrows. Behind the second man, stood a third. He appeared to be rather short. He had dark hair and narrow eyes and a deadpan expression. All three were dressed in rather nice suits, as was the style of the day. Abigail smiled slightly, turning her gaze to the second photo. It was a group shot of many people of both genders who had obviously lined up for the photograph. At the end of the first row, Abigail spotted the short dark-haired man. In the middle of the back row, stood the fair man and Pixis. Her eyes were drawn back to the first photograph, particularly to the fair-haired man.

He sat tall and proud in his chair, legs folded one over the other. Abigail could tell that he was of a strong build, despite the suit hiding his figure. His blonde hair was swept mostly to one side, a common style of the time. He possessed a strong jaw and sharp features. His mouth was quirked ever so slightly. His most prominent feature, aside from his rather large eyebrows, was his eyes. They were sharp and intelligent, looking out from the picture with a calculating gaze. For a brief moment, Abigail felt as though the man in the photograph were observing her, his mouth quirking as though he had found something about her that pleased him. She shook her head, laughing slightly at herself.

“Wander an old house alone and it does things to you,” she said to herself, “Well, Marie and Sofia are obviously not in here.”

She wandered out to look for her cousins.

* * *

 

“Marie! Stop! You’re going to hurt yourself!”

Sofia desperately pleaded with her older sister, who was mounting the railing of the main stairs. Marie merely laughed off her worries. She looked over her shoulder at Sofia, her brown hair falling back to reveal the streaks of green in the front. She grinned, blue eyes dancing.

“You worry too much! This is too fun not to do! Honestly, you should try it!”

With that, Marie pushed off, sliding down the railing on her rear, laughing as she went. Sofia wrung her hands as the older girl zipped down from the top of the stairs to the bottom in just a few seconds, spinning off the curved end of the railing. She laughed exuberantly as she landed, perfectly fine, at the bottom. Still grinning, she turned to look up at Sofia, who sighed in relief.

“Your turn!” she cried.

Sofia quickly shook her head, dark bangs falling to hide her face.

“N-no, I’ll fall.”

Marie frowned at her.

“You won’t fall. I didn’t fall. It’s easy! Just sit on the railing and let gravity do the rest.”

Sofia looked at the railing dubiously. It was true that Marie had gone down almost every railing in the house without falling. However, Marie had always been the adventurous one. Sofia was always the one who tried to be the voice of reason, though she was rarely heard. She bit her lip. Marie was also very skinny in build. Sofia was much softer. Her stomach protruded a little, pushing at her shirt and her face was a bit chubbier than she would have liked.

“I’m too heavy!” she called.

Marie scoffed, waving a hand.

“You are not as heavy as you think you are. You’re not even overweight! Now get your ass on that railing and live a little!”

Sofia swallowed nervously, knowing that Marie was not going to give up. Hesitantly, she followed her sister’s example and carefully sat at the top of the railing. She lifted her feet, biting her lip again, a nervous habit she had developed.

“Come on! You can do it!”

Sofia closed her eyes briefly and pushed off, letting out a little scream. She was on the ground before she realized what had happened. She staggered slightly as her momentum carried her onto her feet. A hand gently steadied her and she murmured a ‘thank you’, supposing that it was Marie. The hand just as gently patted her shoulder.

“That was great! Your face was so funny! You looked terrified.”

Sofia gave her a reproachful look.

“I was terrified. I’ve never done that before.”

Marie continued grinning, paying no mind to the small reprimand. She hardly ever did.

“But wasn’t it fun?”

Sofia looked down, dusting herself off. It had been fun. A little bit. She was not keen on doing it again, though.

“Maybe,” was all she said.

The older sister clapped like she had won an award. She had spent years trying to get Sofia to do something exciting. Even something as small as sliding down the staircase railing was a success. She opened her mouth to speak again, but was stopped by the sound of the front door opening.

“Hello?” a voice called.

Marie’s eyes lit up and she immediately turned and ran down the hall, recognizing the voice of their cousin, Freya.

“Frey!” she yelled.

Sofia sighed and followed. At least Abigail and Freya would help her keep Marie out of trouble from now on.


	2. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cousins catch up a bit before exploring the house. However, when they decide to split up, they get more than they bargained for.

Abigail found her cousins as they were exploring the kitchen. She stepped into the room and almost immediately sighed, having caught sight of Isabella. Bella had always been the most eccentric of the group, however, she had taken her eccentricity to the next level. Abigail had gotten used to the dark makeup and black-painted lips phase. It seemed, however, that the younger woman had a new style. Her hair, previously long and beautifully black, was cropped into an asymmetrical pixie cut and streaked through with pink and blue. Her bangs were mostly dyed aqua blue, magenta pink mixed in at odd intervals. Her bright blue eyes were as striking as ever, lined in black as they were. A stud rested in her nose, something that had not been there before. She was flitting about the kitchen, multiple ear piercings shining, skintight black jeans hugging her hips. She seemed enamored with the plethora of cabinets that lined the walls and spaces beneath the countertops.

Abigail shook her head and looked to Marie, who was perched on the countertop, grinning away. Her wavy chestnut brown hair was lined with forest green, stylishly mixed in rather than boldly standing out like Bella’s wild colors. Of course, Marie’s colors were libel to change, as she had been changing the highlights since she had first gotten them put in at age fourteen. Her blue eyes were bright beneath her side swept bangs as she laughed at Bella’s reaction to the overabundance of cabinet space within the kitchen.

Standing next to her sister was Sofia. The quiet girl had cut her hair since Abigail had last seen her. It was the same shade as her sister’s and fell just below her shoulders, easily enabling her to hide her face. She had always been quiet and shy, but Abigail saw a nervousness in her eyes that had not been there before. She tugged at a lock of hair, hazel eyes flitting about the room. When they settled on Abigail, Sofia smiled, the same soft smile she had inherited from her mother. Abigail smiled back and gave a small wave.

“What are you lurking over there for, Abby?”

Abigail’s brown eyes moved to Freya, who stood near the center of the room, leaning on the center island and smiling. Dressed in a plain t-shirt and jeans, the second eldest cousin still managed to strike a rather imposing figure. She was the smallest at five feet, four inches. Just shorter than Bella, who was five, five. Her golden hair was gathered into two tails, each flowing down over one of her shoulders. She had not changed in the least. Despite her soft features, Freya carried herself with an air of wisdom and authority that immediately offset her youthful face and short stature.

Abby stepped into the kitchen, returning the smile.

“Apologies. It’s just been a while since I saw you and Bella. It’s good to see you again.”

At the mention of her name, Bella looked up, a chain in her ear swinging to clatter against the neighboring stud. She was crouched in front of a cabinet, looking as though she were about to attempt to squeeze inside.

“What?”

Freya rolled her eyes.

“She said that she’s missed us. If you’d get your head out of that cabinet, you would know that.”

Bella frowned at Freya before grinning at Abigail.

“Missed you too, Abby!”

Abigail cocked a brow in bemusement as Freya sighed.

Freya and Bella’s mothers had been rather close and had remained in the same town during their adult years. This had led to Freya and Bella being close as well. They were only three years apart, with Freya at twenty six and Bella at twenty three. Luckily, Freya’s more serious personality worked to offset Bella’s spitfire demeanor. Otherwise, it was quite possible that Bella would have gotten into quite a lot of trouble in her teenage years.

The eldest cousin turned to look at Marie and Sofia.

“And how have you two been?”

Marie smiled widely.

“Mom finally left the asshole, so life’s been great.”

Sofia nodded.

“It’s been so much easier. And she’s doing a lot better.”

Marie and Sofia’s mother had chosen to remarry after the girls’ father died in a car accident. Unfortunately, her new partner had been rather unsavory. Her personality, much like Sofia’s, had attracted someone who was emotionally and psychologically abusive. Marie had been more like her father, and had bucked her stepfather’s authority at every turn, unwilling to submit to him. Sofia had become more and more introverted under the abuse. Marie’s strong personality had fed on that, and she had shielded her sister more times than they could count. However, she could not be around all the time, and Sofia had still suffered.

Abigail smiled, unable to stop the pleased expression on her face. She had been very upset that she had been unable to interfere and assist, but ridding themselves of the man was something that the girls and their mother had to do on their own.

Bella stood from the cabinet, slamming the door shut.

“Good. I was gonna punch the bastard myself if he decided to show his sorry ass at the next family reunion. It made me sick the way he treated your mom.”

She pushed her fist into the opposite hand, cracking her knuckles. Her eyes were hard as she apparently envisioned hitting the so-called ‘bastard’. Freya reached up and patted her head.

“Hush. It’s over now. No reason to dwell on it.”

The punkish girl sighed, relaxing slightly.

“Yeah. Good riddance.”

Abigail nodded in agreement, returning her attention to Marie and Sofia.

“I’m glad to hear it. Is she doing okay with you two coming here?”

Marie waved a hand dismissively.

“She’s been harping about me moving out for months now. Says I’m an adult and shouldn’t be living with my mother at my age. She said Sofie should come with because she needed ‘interpersonal interaction to combat her introverted personality’,” she poked Sofia, “Isn’t that right, Sofie?”

Sofia moved out of poking range, frowning at her sister.

“She did. But I disagree. I’m perfectly fine with being alone.”

Bella sneaked up behind the girl and grabbed her in a sudden hug, causing her to squeak in protest. The older woman laughed, nuzzling her cheek against Sofia’s. Sofia looked extremely uncomfortable at the close contact.

“Aww, but you have to share some of your cuteness with the rest of us, Sofie! How am I supposed to find you a date with a hot piece of ass if you’re tucked away at home?”

Sofia squirmed, blushing.

“I d-don’t want a date. Boys are s-scary and judgmental.”

Freya moved over to Abigail, crossing her arms and sighing as Marie laughed at her sister’s misfortune. The blonde woman looked up at her cousin, blue eyes serious.

“Shall we continue exploring? I, for one, would like to know where I’m sleeping tonight.”

Abigail nodded, agreeing with the idea of divvying out living space.

“The bedrooms seem to be mostly on the second floor. There are servant’s quarters, of course, but I doubt anyone wants to be so alone at night in such a big house.”

Marie, who had immediately hopped off the counter at the mention of exploration, darted between them and through the door, eyes bright. She dashed down the hall, laughing. Abigail looked after her for a moment before turning back to Freya.

“I suppose that’s our cue to go on then.”

The remaining four made their way from the kitchen to follow the ever-energized Marie, Bella flitting ahead to join her. Sofia sighed in relief at having been released from the forced hug. She straightened her clothes, dusting herself off. Then, she followed.

As she passed through the doorway, she was quite suddenly accosted by a bout of frigid air. She shivered violently, gooseflesh breaking out on any exposed skin. Her breath fogged unexpectedly, exiting her mouth in a visible puff. Her eyes widened. Then, it was gone, as suddenly as it had come. She stared around, confused and scared.

“Sofia? Are you alright?”

Sofia looked up upon hearing Abigail’s voice. She and Freya had stopped and were looking back at her in concern. Sofia glanced around once more, nodding slowly.

“Y-yes. Coming!”

She practically ran down the hall, not hearing the whispered apology that emanated from the doorway.

*******************

Isabella was absolutely beside herself. They had successfully explored the entirety of the house, ending in the ballroom. She stared around at the white walls and elegant pillars. It was beautiful enough to appeal even to her. So large, too. Awed, she spoke rather loudly, voice echoing throughout the room.

“Holy shit, this is a big ass house! I mean, it’s been what, forty minutes, and we just now got here?”

Freya winced from her position next to Abigail. She had gotten used to Bella’s cursing long ago. She did not, however, enjoy the loudness at which she did it. Giving her cousin a threatening stare, Freya cleared her throat. Everyone turned to look at her, despite the other three women concluding that she had done it to get Bella’s attention. Bella cocked a brow in question at the look she received.

“I brought soap,” was all Freya said.

Bella went pale, the complexion chalky beneath her blue, pink, and black hair. Grimacing, she crossed her arms over her rather flat chest and reached up to toy with one of her numerous ear piercings. There had been a time when Freya had become so annoyed with Bella’s obnoxious cursing that she had squirted hand sanitizer into her mouth every time the younger girl started cursing ‘too much’. Bella had learned to at least attempt to keep her volume and choice of words to a minimum, lest she be ‘cleansed.’ It was still questioned how Freya had good enough aim to make the aforementioned shot, but Bella had sworn that it was the truth. It was easy enough to believe that Freya had indeed forced soap on the girl. Freya was never without hand sanitizer. She abhorred the thought of contamination or illness, and had quite the routine of cleaning and sanitizing her environment. Even her routine of going to the bathroom was rigorous. She ensured that her bare skin never touched any of the surfaces unless they had been thoroughly cleaned and disinfected, often resorting to using paper products when turning the sink handles or flushing the toilet. She had also been known to suppress the need to use the restroom by sheer force of will alone, should a sanitary restroom not be available.

At the mention of soap, Marie cocked her head at Freya, looking thoughtful.

“Still a germophobe?” she questioned.

Freya winced in affirmation. Marie’s lips suddenly stretched in a grin, moving to stand next to her.

“You know, Frey,” her tone was mischievous, “I’ll bet there’s dust all over the place…and how long do you think it’s been since the floors were swept?”

Freya’s eye twitched at the thought. She could already picture all the germs that had accumulated over time. People exploring the house, perhaps coughing into a hand and then touching a banister as they mounted the stairs. Or sneezing into the stale air of the closed off-rooms and contaminating it. Dust and dirt begot allergies and allergies begot germs. Compulsively, she took a small bottle of hand sanitizer from her pocket and squeezed a dollop onto her palm, quickly rubbing it into her skin. Marie leaned over to speak in a softer tone, obviously enjoying herself.

“Or _mopped_?”

Abigail sighed and Bella rolled her eyes, amused but trying not to look it. Sofia gave her sister a look of long suffering. Marie merely smiled as Freya shuddered. She quickly turned to Abigail.

“Where’s the cleaning closet?” she looked at the floor as though, at any moment, germs would swarm in an attack, “I know she’s messing with me, but she’s right. There’s probably some sort of contamination in here…”

Abigail shot Marie a look. The girl sniggered behind her hand, clearly enjoying having set Freya off like this. With a sigh, the older woman nodded.

“Follow me.”

Bella frowned, still twisting her earring. She had long ago learned to vacate the premises once Freya began cleaning.

“I’m not busting my butt to help your stupid-ass germ phobia. I’m gonna go pick out a room and get unpacked.”

Abigail glanced at her as she began to walk away.

“You should at least air it out and maybe dust down the furniture. I also would not use the bedding. Who knows how long it’s been since it was washed.”

Bella waved over her shoulder dismissively.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not stupid, you know.”

With that, she disappeared into the hall. Sofia looked after her, tugging at her own hair. She frowned lightly. She previously been sitting in one of the chairs that lined the walls of the ballroom, but now, she rose and came to Marie’s side.

“The rate at which her mood changes is stunning,” she murmured, the first thing she had said in nearly an hour.

Marie nodded in agreement. After a slight pause, she dismissed it, already moving on. She stretched her arms over her head, smiling as her back gave a satisfying ‘pop’

“Welp, I want to go look around again. See you later!”

With that, she skipped away, totally carefree in her new environment.

Abigail looked back to Sofia, seeing the girl sigh at the way her sister left without her. She smiled and reached over to put a hand on her shoulder.

“Freya and I are going to check the cleaning supplies. We may have to go buy new. Would you like to come with us?”

Sofia shook her head. She did not want to be alone, really, but thought she might impose if she accompanied them. So, she instead chose to remain behind.

“No, thank you. You go ahead.”

Freya looked back from the doorway, having already moved on.

“You’ll be alright alone?’

The youngest cousin nodded, smiling.

“I’ll be fine.”

Freya and Abigail exchanged glances briefly, knowing what Sofia was doing, but silently agreeing not to push the issue.

‘If you say so.”

“We’ll see you later, then.”

Together they departed, leaving Sofia alone in the ballroom.

The brown haired girl stood there in silence for a moment. Then, she slowly turned to look about. She seemed to relax a bit more, now that she was alone. She turned in a slow circle, at a loss for what to do. After a long pause, she finally approached the fireplace, looking at the picture above it.

Coming to a halt, she cocked her head and looked at the portrait of her twice great grandfather. She frowned slightly, attempting to find herself in his features and failing miserably. His eyes were brown, yes, but a darker shade than hers, and more piercing. His relatively sharp features were also much different from her softer face. He was hawkish, she was feminine. He was rather thin while she was fuller, softer. She searched the picture, beginning to feel despair. Then, she saw it. The slight quirk of his mouth. He was smiling, not fully, but smiling softly nonetheless. Her smile. Or rather, his smile passed down to her through genetics. She felt her lips quirk into that same smile as she observed him. She saw now that his eyes were, while piercing, softened by the laugh lines on his face. Whether those were caused by polite smiles or genuine laughter, she could not tell. However, she knew that her grandfather must have been a good man. No one cruel could have such a face as his. Indeed, her mother’s second husband had not.

She sighed, looking down, thinking about her stepfather. He had left only two months earlier. What a blessed two months those had been. The man had a silver tongue that had just as easily turned into a whip. He had also had a large stock of words and hurtful phrases to draw from. Sofia had been his favorite target. Her shy personality had been easy to grind and crush. She shivered, unconsciously grabbing her arm. It had been when the physical abuse started that Marie had finally been able to call the police. They had nothing to go on beforehand. However, on a day when their mother was out, the stepfather had grabbed Sofia in a bout of anger, leaving a large, hand-shaped bruise on her arm. When he struck her in the stomach with a closed fist, raging at her for being useless, Marie had not waited to dial the emergency number. Unfortunately, the damage had already been done. Black bruises had blossomed on Sofia’s pale skin. They still had yet to fade, though. They were a healthier green-yellow now instead of black or blue.

Gingerly, she lifted the hem of her shirt, revealing her soft stomach. The flesh in the middle, between her belly button and rib cage was stained in the shape of his fist. She shuddered. Dropping her shirt, she looked up at her Grandfather. He wore a Confederate officer’s uniform in the portrait, the decoration on his coat marking him as some sort of commander. Sofia took this to mean that he must have been strong and very cunning. Judging from his sharp eyes, more cunning than strong. She sighed, bowing her head.

“I think you would be ashamed of me, grandfather. I…I’m sorry, that I’m not more like Marie. I’m scared of everything, and she’s so fearless,” a slight sniffle left her, “He never targeted her with physical abuse,” she sniffled again, “J-just me. He hurt me…so much…Not just when he punched me. He said…such terrible things and made me think,” tears left her eyes, running down her cheeks, “That maybe I am useless.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, desperate for a hug to ward off the emotional onslaught of her depressing memories. She kneeled on the floor, shuddering as she cried. She had tried not to cry, for Marie’s sake. Now, however, she could not help it. It had been so terrible to be feel objectified and unloved.

Suddenly, a gentle hand rested on her shoulder, chilling her through her clothing. She looked up in surprised embarrassment, sure that one of the others had heard her and come to check on her. Her eyes widened when she saw that this was not the case.

There was a young man crouched before her. He had dark hair, parted down the middle. A sprinkling of freckles dusted his cheek, giving him a boyish look. He smiled gently at her, his eye sparkling kindly. He would have been very handsome, even with the way his figure seemed to shimmer and waver in the air. He would have been handsome, if he’d had all of his body. Sofia froze, horrified by the half-figure before her. She could see where something had torn away his right side. Bones protruded and blood stained the ragged edge of his uniform. The right half of his face was gone from his forehead down. The wound continued down his torso to his hip, a great hole of nothingness where his right side should have been. The sight was made even more terrible by his pleasant expression.

His left hand squeezed her shoulder lightly, and he smiled, seemingly unaware of her horror.

“Hey, don’t cry,” he said in a soothing tone, “It’s a shame to hear a pretty girl saying stuff like that.”

Sofia’s mouth was open in shock, the color gone from her face. She stared at him for a moment more. Then, her eyes fluttered shut, and she fell to the side in a dead faint, barely hearing his exclamation of surprise.

 


End file.
